


Self-Control (Or The Lack Thereof)

by faIIen_angeI77



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Creampie, Daddy Kink, Denial of Feelings, Dry Humping, Feelings Realization, Porn with Feelings, Post-Break Up, Praise Kink, Public Sex, Slapping, Vaginal Sex, Zeke Yeager Being an Asshole, degradation kink, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 06:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30067923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faIIen_angeI77/pseuds/faIIen_angeI77
Summary: You and Zeke agreed to get some distance from each other after your break-up. Of course, that would theoretically work - if it wasn't for the fact that you can't spend more than five minutes in the same room alone without it turning into a less-than-decent encounter.
Relationships: Zeke Yeager/Reader
Comments: 16
Kudos: 135





	Self-Control (Or The Lack Thereof)

**Author's Note:**

> HIIIIIIII plssss my brain is rotting for zeke and and and i’m very ashamed of it but also not. so i hope you enjoy this! zeke is an asshole and you're both terrible at feelings but you're gonna be okay. as always, i hope you enjoy reading this!!

You had agreed to get some distance from each other. 

Here's the thing - you're not ready for a relationship. Neither is he. You don't even want to consider the possibility of falling in love. Not like it'd even be possible for you to gain feelings for Zeke Yeager - you'd rather choke than even consider that - but you both agreed that stopping whatever it was that was going on between you two before anyone got hurt was for the best. 

You just had to pretend you've never met him. Pretend you don't even remember his fucking name if that's what it takes. It shouldn't be that hard.. _right?_

Because you don't ever want to get hurt, much less by a pretentious asshole like him. 

You're better off choking on your feelings, choking on the way you miss his touch, the way you touch yourself every night thinking back to every filthy memory you shared with him. The way he had his fingers inside you within the first thirty minutes of knowing each other.. on an Ikea store (long story, don't ask), the way he entered your mind immediately and refused to leave ever since. The way you lost control of yourself every time he was in the same room and found yourself doing just about anything for his touch, the way he'd whisper the dirtiest things in your ear - like when he'd call you his _pretty little whore_ ; when he'd take you in every possible position in his bed 'till you were shaking and convulsing under his cock and he'd tell you to _fucking take it_ ; when he'd put his fingers inside of you under the table right in front of your friends, who were ignorant to your depravities, and you'd shoot him a death glare and he'd tell you to _say the word, then. say it, princess, and I'll stop_ , and he’d take his soaked fingers from inside you to his lips and lick them, and for a second you were terrified your friends noticed but they didn't, and your walls clenched with the need for more of his touch. 

He was shameless, depraved, a freak who got off on the weirdest things. And still, you couldn't bring yourself to say the word. The safe word, the one you'd set from the very beginning - _baseball_ \- and you never once had it in yourself to say it, because, in the end, you were just as unhinged as him. You two were the same. 

And it was fun and exciting and you'd never felt so much pleasure your entire life.. until suddenly, you found your heart beating too fast when he held your hand. The butterflies in your stomach started going too wild when you'd cuddle after sex; he started staying in for the night, you'd have breakfast together, and then, he knew your friends and you knew his and trying not to speak of him every time something reminded you of him - which was often - proved to be the hardest thing in the world. You weren't exclusive and you knew you could fuck whoever you wanted but ever since you met him, just the thought of anyone else touching you disgusted you. 

You were the one to snap. 

You'd both been very open from the beginning about your intentions - no feelings, just casual sex. No love, just fucking. No relationships. 

So after one of those mornings where he slept in and you two ended up ordering McDonald's for breakfast/lunch, you laughed a bit too hard at one of his dumb sex jokes (his jokes were actually incredibly intelligent, but you'd never feed his ego like that by admitting it), to the point where you choked on your coke and french fries. And then you were saying "We shouldn't be doing this," to which he answered, "I know." 

You told him things were getting too serious, and he said he couldn't go back to just fucking, so it'd be better to part ways. You asked him if you could be friends. He said he knew neither of you would be able to stay in the same room for five minutes without starting to make out. 

And just like that, he left. As suddenly and inebriating as he'd come into your life, after those four months of pure bliss, and only then did you realize how used you were to his presence. 

It felt weird for a week, not texting him every time you saw a cute puppy on the street. And then, it was three in the morning and you were crying on your kitchen floor scrolling through his social media trying to decode his Twitter likes to see if he had moved on and was with someone else already. A spoonful of ice cream in your mouth and tears pooling in your eyes, you called your best friend and asked her to distract you so you wouldn't text him. 

You didn't. You almost did - several times, whenever he liked a sad tweet or posted a picture where he looked unreasonably good or whenever you'd break down crying because you randomly felt the scent of his perfume when you were walking through the city. But you didn't, you prevailed and you didn't text him and you went through the past two months not seeing him once. 

Until today. 

You didn't expect to see him here - he knew this was your favorite library and you came here all the time. This was the first time you had the strength to come here after the non-breakup ( _not_ an official break-up, because you never dated in the first place, remember?), and somehow, here he was, sitting by a desk with his eyes trained on the book he was reading. 

You didn't know if you should approach him, you didn't even know _how_ you were supposed to do it, but you figured it'd be too awkward if you didn't at least say hello. 

So you took a deep breath and walked towards the desk where he was sitting, not sitting beside him because there were no more chairs. Looking around, you comprehended that it was because other people had taken them to the other desks - this library was usually packed with people, considering it was the most known in the city. 

"I didn't know you were into gardening," you noted, cocking your eyebrow up as you got close enough to him, reading the title of the book he was reading. 

"Just a new hobby I picked up recently," he said monotonously, and the way he didn't even bother to look up at you from his book had your stomach dropping. Is this how little surprised he was to see you? Was he this indifferent to your presence? 

If you weren't sure before that he was over you, now you had the confirmation practically screaming at you in the face. He didn't care. He never did. 

"Weird choice. But then again, you've never been particularly normal," you noted, wondering if this was the acceptable time to turn around and sit somewhere else. Somewhere where you couldn't be reminded of his presence. 

He finally looked up at you, eyes meeting yours, and you could feel your body immediately heating up. 

You couldn't decipher his expression. All you knew was that his hair was fluffy and his skin hydrated, his glasses clean and his clothing impeccable, so it meant that he'd been taking care of himself. In your eyes, it meant that the non-breakup didn't at all affect him. He was just as composed as always, and you hated yourself for expecting otherwise. 

At least you looked good, too. At least you showered and did your hair and makeup and chose your hottest outfit - all because this was your first time leaving your house ever since he left and you wanted to feel as refreshed as possible. This, at the very least, was comforting. 

"You look.. _good_." 

You weren't expecting that. You were expecting him to be an asshole and tell you to leave or just ignore you altogether, not _this_. 

You chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Can't say the same thing about you, though. You look like a shit monkey." 

The corner of his lip titled the slightest bit upward and your eyes lit up at the prospect of almost making him smile. But then you saw the way his eyes didn't match his lips, and you found yourself frowning. Was he.. sad? 

"Always with such a filthy mouth," he commented, and you ignored the way your heartbeat fastened. "So, what've you been doing?" He asked you, book long forgotten. By the way his eyes scanned your expression for any hint of whatever it was he was hoping to find, you could almost hear the actual question he truly wanted to ask - _who_ 've you been doing. 

You shrugged. "Not much. Just wanted to come here and read for a bit. So I guess that's what I'm going to do. See you," you hurried. Either way, you didn't expect him to want to prolong this meeting any longer than you did. 

"Wait," he sounded, almost _desperately_ , when you turned around to leave. "I'm here to read, too. We could read together." 

You turned to look him in the face, not understanding what he was trying to do with this. "There are no chairs here," you stated. You noticed the way he looked down at his lap before looking back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes and you wanted to hit him with a book. "I'm not sitting on your lap!" You whispered angrily, aware of the people on the desks nearby, giving him a face of disbelief. You felt your cheeks heat up at the mere suggestion of such a thing. 

He gave you a smug smirk, and you couldn't _believe_ he was still just as infuriating as he'd always be. "Come on, it's no big deal. We're both mature adults, aren't we? Plus, it'd be nice to catch up. We haven't seen each other in.. a while." 

You didn't know what to do. You knew you should most definitely turn around and run for your life, but your feet moved almost with a life of their own as you went to grab the book you wanted to read, and then towards his seat, not a word muttered, as he pushed his chair slightly away from the desk so you'd have space to sit. 

As you sat down, you were met with the heat of his body radiating from him, your thighs meeting his thighs and your back against his chest. You were suddenly met with the fear of him noticing how erratic your heartbeat was, as you grabbed your book and focused on not having your face turn into a tomato. 

You felt his breathing near your neck as he held his book next to yours and read it. You tried your _best_ to read your book, you did, but it was like your brain couldn't comprehend what the words in front of you were, too focused on the way his cock was underneath you. 

You felt the faint scent of his perfume filling your senses, and the way his arm was almost touching yours. 

It's not _fair_. It's not fair that he still had this big of an effect on you even after breaking your heart. 

Your entire life, you weren't even sure you had a heart to break. But Zeke proved you just how wrong you'd been. 

"So, what have _you_ been doing?" You asked, desperate for a distraction from the fire that was lighting up in your belly. "Besides, you know. Gardening." 

He answered from behind you. "Oh, I've been reading. Going out. Fucking." 

Your stomach dropped and you felt your entire body freeze at his words. Why would he tell you that? 

Even if his words cut through you like a knife, you couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing it hurt you. 

So you shrugged. "Me too." Silence. You decided to move the subject, not wanting to give him a breach to ask you who you were fucking and to find out you were lying. "How's the rest? Pieck, Reiner, Colt? Porco?" 

"They miss you," he confessed, and you tilted your head back to face him. It had sounded like just muttering those words pained him. Your eyes met his, and you gulped. "They've been asking where you are. They miss hanging out with you." 

_Don't look at his lips. Don't look at his lips. Don't look at his lips._

"My friends miss you, too. Yelena doesn't get why we can't remain as friends. She says that now that you aren't around, she doesn't have any way of approaching Pieck." 

He left out a chuckled, a sound so deep and throaty that you instinctively had your eyes trained on his lips. You looked away almost immediately, cursing yourself. 

"I never got to introduce you my brother." 

Your eyes widened and your mouth parted in awe as you stared back at him, amazed. "You found him?" 

"Yup, he's alive and healthy. I've been teaching him how to play catch. He wants to buy an apartment near my place so we'll be closer." 

You couldn't contain your excitement. "Zeke, that's amazing!" You dropped your book and were just about to throw your arms around him, when you remembered you shouldn't. You retrieved your hands to your lap, embarrassed. He noticed, and you shrugged the thought out of your mind that told you that he seemed disappointed at the way you stopped yourself from hugging him. 

"I know, it really is. He's sad he hasn't met you yet." 

You furrowed your brows. "You told him about me?" 

"Uh-" his eyes widened, and he took his hand to scratch the back of his neck as he fumbled with his words. "No- I mean. Yes. Just a little bit. Not a lot, though. It's not like I have any reason to go around talking about you. It's not like I m-" He took a deep breath, fixing his glasses as he spoke. "Nevermind." 

For some reason, that made you smile. That also made you extremely flustered, so you turned to the front once again and held your book in your hands, once again trying - and miserably failing - to read the words in front of you. 

His breathing near your neck seemed like the only thing your stupid brain wanted to focus on, the way he inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, the warm breaths hitting the side of your neck. 

You gulped. 

You found yourself shifting uncomfortably on his lap. You felt suddenly horrified at the possibility of him being able to feel you pulsating against him - he can't, right? Men can't feel the heartbeat of your pussy when you sit on them, _right?_

You hated yourself for picking a philosophy book instead of one about human anatomy. Perhaps then you could have the answer to the question that was plaguing your thoughts. 

You were grateful for the fact that all he couldn't see the way your cheeks were flustered. 

But then, _something_ happened. He began fidgeting his leg up and down, in the way people do when they're nervous. But the difference was that you were sitting on his lap, feeling the movements he was making. 

"What are you doing?" You asked, hoping your voice sounded annoyed - hoping to god it didn't sound as needy as you were beginning to feel. 

"Oh, this?" He pointed at his leg. "I do this when I'm reading. It helps me focus. You don't mind, do you?" You muttered a weak _no_. "Good. Can you move a little bit so I can read better?" 

And with that, he placed his hands on your waist, shifting you to the leg he was bouncing up and down. One of them went to his book once again, but the other.. the other was placed on your thigh, dangerously close to the end of your short skirt, as he gave it a gentle squeeze, almost tentatively. 

With your heart practically beating out of your chest, it finally clicked - he was doing this on purpose. He was trying to mess with you. He wanted to tease you. 

You knew that, but the way your legs pressed between his, the way you felt the bouncing of his leg right against your panties was so _delightful_ yet so painfully slow that you couldn't break away. You needed _more_. You needed to grind against his large leg, to feel him against your throbbing cunt, to have him acknowledge the wetness that was beginning to pool against your panties. 

You felt pathetic for desiring to do so. This was wrong - you two decided to get some distance from each other, yet this was the first time you were meeting ever since the non-breakup and he already had you like this. It's been five fucking minutes, for god's sake. 

But as you were begging yourself to recompose yourself, you felt his other hand completely dropping his book and settling on your waist, pushing you towards him as his forehead dropped to your shoulder, breathing heavying. 

"Zeke.." you said, and it sounded much more like a moan than the annoyed warning you tried to have it sound like. 

All common sense forgotten, you lost yourself in the moment, grinding against his bouncing leg as you remembered all too vividly how _good_ he felt against you. 

His legs were large and you knew how muscular they really were under his pants. 

That served as a reminder of how big and thick his cock was, how it always filled you up and stretched your walls to the point where it hurt, the best pain you've ever felt. 

That reminder wasn't enough - not for him, at least, because as he pressed your ass against him with his fingers on your waist, you felt just how hard he was, bulge painfully strained against his pants, almost like he was demanding you acknowledge the throbbing erection you caused. 

You wanted his fingers inside of you, wanted him to take his hand on your thigh to your panties and pushed them aside as he fucked you right here, where anyone could see. 

You spread your legs further to deepen the friction, back arching against him. 

And then, as he squeezed your thigh and as you ground against him, you heard him moaning against your ear, hot and strained, not being able to control himself anymore. 

You were brought back to reality again as you realized what you two were doing. 

You jumped away from him, standing up, avoiding his gaze as you felt your cheeks burning. "What the fuck are we doing?" You asked, sounding pathetically weak. "We agreed on getting some distance. We agreed on stopping _this_ , whatever this is." 

He looked at you from his seat, and when his eyes met yours, you felt it. The _pain_. The pain he'd been trying to hide from the entirety of meeting you here, the way a million emotions were conflicting on his expression - from desperation to passion to distress. 

"I-" he started, voice a mere whisper. "I came here every day." 

"What?" You asked, not comprehending, throat dry and clenched as if someone was choking you, not allowing you to breathe properly. 

"To this library. Ever since we broke up, I spent every afternoon here. I know this is your favorite place and I just thought.. that maybe if I came.." 

You clung onto every pained word that left his mouth. "What?" You pressed. You needed.. to hear it. To hear _everything_. To know you weren't the only one suffering. 

"Maybe if I came, then I'd see you. I wanted to see you so bad. I don't even know jackshit about gardening. I missed you," he blurted out. "There, I said it. I fucking said it."

You looked at him, absolutely dumbfounded. You were filled with burning rage. "Fuck you," you spit out venomously, not believing your own ears. 

You turned around and started walking angrily towards the exit of the library, damn near blind from anger. 

"Hey, stop!" He called from behind you, trying to meet your pace. When you exited the building, you felt his hand gripping your arm and turning you around, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

"The fuck got into you?" He questioned. 

You gasped, as if he just asked the most preposterous thing in the world. "Two months!" You cried out. "You've been spending every fucking day of the past two months at this stupid fucking library trying to see me? Do you know where I was? In my bed, every day, crying and convincing myself not to text you." 

Tears were pooling in your eyes, but you didn't care. You were too consumed by your anger. 

"You lied when you said you were hooking up with other guys?" 

You looked at him in disbelief. "Of course I was! I didn't want you to think you were the only one moving on." 

"The only reason why I even said that in the first place was to make you jealous," he confessed. Your vision was blurry as you stared into his eyes, both pained and excited. "To try to see if you were hurting like I was." 

Your lips parted. You took your hand to your eyes, trying to clean the tears with its palm. "You.. were hurting?" 

He took a deep breath, running his fingers through his fluffy blonde hair. "Are you fucking kidding me? I could barely eat," he said. He took a moment to recollect his thoughts before continuing. You just looked up at him, lower lip trembling. "Look, I know.. I know I've spent the past twenty-three years not doing anything even remotely serious, and so have you, but.. I never expected to meet you. I never expected to meet someone that could make me feel the way that you do. I loved waking up next to you and having breakfast together. I loved the stupid dog photos you sent me. I loved just being around you." 

"Shut up." 

"I don't know what this means, but I'm not scared of finding out if it's with you." 

"Shut up!" 

"I just can't do this without you." 

"SHUT UP, ZEKE YEAGER!" 

It seems like he wasn't getting the memo, so you threw your arms around him and closed off the distance between your lips, shutting him up for good. Right now, all you needed was to taste again. There'd be time for words later. 

So you kissed him as passionately as you felt, showing him just how much you missed this. Your arms pushed him close to you, while your lips explored every part of his mouth, letting his taste of cigarettes and mint overtake you. He kissed you back with as much intensity, and when you opened your mouth to let his tongue meet yours, he seized the control to himself, letting you know who really was the one in charge. 

He chuckled against your mouth. "Who do you think you are to shut me up, you whore?" You gulped against lips; he was far away just enough to let the words sink in. With his hands on your waist, he was driving you somewhere, but you didn't care enough to ask, all you cared was that his lips kept being on yours, kissing you senseless. 

"Look at you, trying to be all bossy with me," he teased. You felt your back hit a wall. "Almost made me forgot how you were arching your back and grinding on my thigh in the library, for anyone to see. Tsk. You looked like a bitch in heat."

With flushed cheeks, you hit him in the arm. "Oh, shut up. Like you weren't moaning against my ear. Wait, why are we on an alley?" 

The way his eyes darkened and his lips turned into a wicked smirk was by all means dangerous. 

"This is where I'm going to teach you a lesson, whore. Teach you that you can't talk back to me like that. Teach you that you're not allowed to stop being my little fucktoy for even a day, let alone two months," he groaned against your ear, voice low and husky. You hated that, whenever he got like this, you felt your insides aching for him. "On your knees." 

"Yes, daddy," you obeyed, knowing that calling him that did something to him that made him harder every time, without fail. Your heart was beating so fast - you missed him so, _so_ much. 

You were unbuckling his belt when he gripped your hair with enough strength to draw a moan from you. He forced you to meet his eyes. 

"Open your mouth, princess." 

You obeyed, smiling like an idiot as you looked expectantly at him. You observed the way the spit formed at his lips and left his mouth, falling on your tongue and dripping down your chin. 

"Now swallow." 

You didn't even need him to give that order. You were already licking your chin and your mouth to make sure you didn't waste a single drop, swallowing while you looked up at him, desire clouding your eyes and making them slightly close. 

"So fucking dirty," he praised. 

You freed his cock from his boxers, practically salivating at the sight. It was so fucking big and so hard, the vein he had there noticeable and nearly pulsing. You didn't hold yourself back, taking immediately into your mouth and coating it with your spit, licking a strand of the entire length, kissing the tip and taking it into your mouth as you sucked. 

The way he jerked his cock to have you taking more and more of him into your mouth with each stroke, the way he was tugging at your hair as if his life depended on it, the way he was groaning and shaking his head back from pleasure - all of it heightened your desire. Just pleasing him turned you on so much, you couldn't help moaning against him. 

You felt the back of his cock hitting your throat, gagging while tears pooled in your eyes - and you weren't sure if it was just from the stimulation or from how bad you craved this. 

"So fucking good.." he praised, and you could hear the lewd, sloppy noises you were making as you took him, letting him feel your entire mouth as you tasted his salty precum. 

You could feel him nearing his point, desperate to savor him when his fingers yanked your hair back with a sudden strength. 

"What, you think I'd waste any of my cum on that filthy mouth? After two months of not being inside of you?" He pulled you up by your hair, his mouth almost on yours as your knees trembled from the impact. "Is that what you want? Want me to just fuck your face and cum on your mouth?" 

"No," you whispered, searching desperately for his mouth. He kept it out of reach, though, just to torture you. "Want you inside me. Want you to fill me up." 

"Oh, is that so?" He chuckled, gripping your hands together behind your back to stop you from holding onto his neck and try to kiss him. "I thought you wanted some distance, though, isn't that right?" 

"Bastard," you spit out. His smirk turned lethal and you felt a sudden pain on your cheek, where his heavy palm hit you. 

He laughed. "Of course you'd like that," he tantalized, observing the way your eyes were filled with lust and appetite. "You're acting up too much. You know you can't disrespect me." 

"Or what?" 

You felt his hand slap you again, this time on your ass, and you moaned, burying your face in his chest. 

"Or I'll need to teach you to be my obedient little slut all over again." 

You shivered under his touch, walls clenching with need. 

"Please.." You said, looking up at him from his chest, lazily kissing his neck. 

"Please, what?" 

"Please fuck me. I need you to use me, sir. I'm all yours. Now and forever." 

He gulped and you knew how much you were affecting him. You felt his fingers pushing your panties aside, caressing your clit. You practically saw stars from the pleasure, that's how overwhelming it felt to have him touch you there. He began opening you up, one finger and then two. 

" _Yes,_ you fucking are. All mine. Your pretty pussy knows who she belongs to, too. Look how wet she is for me. Look how _tight_ ," you moaned against him as he began curling his fingers inside you, hitting that spot that always had you melting under his touch. 

"Zeke.." 

"What've you been doing, these past two months? To get yourself off?" 

"I-" you started, but you lost all train of thought when he took his fingers from inside you and replaced it with his cock, nuzzling at your entrance. It was still so wet from your sucking, and it completely coated you. "I've been-" you attempted again, moaning against his neck. "Been touching myself every night, thinking of you. Been fantasizing about you fucking me raw." 

"Fuck," he groaned, taking your knees up and wrapping your legs around his waist, and he couldn't hold himself back anymore - he finally entered you, giving you only a moment to adjust to his huge length before beginning to pound mercilessly into you. 

You were a mess of moaning and panting and broken thoughts, and the adrenaline of someone walking through the street and catching you two having sex both terrified and excited you. 

He thrust hard and deep into you, fucking you senseless as he moaned and groaned against your mouth, to the point where you were sobbing and legs trembling from the way he was abusing your cunt. 

"Such a slut, not afraid of being caught fucking on a dirty alley," he breathed heavily, and you could barely even remember your name, let alone form any phrase coherent enough to serve as an answer. So you settled for broken moans of _Zeke_ , _daddy_ and _feels s'good, fuck,_ as he took his fingers to your clit and began a ruthless pace of rubbing you just how you liked it, absolutely remorseless as he handled you however he pleased. 

You were so far gone now, so drunk on the taste of him, the feeling of him, the sight of him, the heat of your bodies as he thrust into you, the way your walls clenched around him as if unwilling to ever let him go, just for you to unclench and feel him pull back before burying deeper inside you, hitting all the spots that made you go crazy. 

You felt his mouth clashing against yours once again, feeling the air leave your lungs as he consumed you whole, in sloppy and messy kisses, tongue never leaving yours. 

"'M going to cum," you sobbed, seeking permission. 

"Do it, baby. Cum against daddy's cock." And you knew he was so close too, the pounding becoming more and more forceful. You knew you'd barely be able to walk after this, but right now it felt so good, so _amazing_ , and fuck, you were so _close_. 

And suddenly your orgasm hit you, making you moan _Zeke!_ so loud you were afraid the whole street would hear it - and all he did was laugh; because _of course_ , he did, he was an asshole through and through. But then his laughter turning into hopeless moaning as he came too, against your convulsing pussy, filling you up with his hot, sticky seed. 

He didn't pull out - not even when your breathing was calming down once again, not even when you were coming down from the high. 

"You look so pretty," he said, dropping little pecks all over your face. "So fucked out. So ruined." 

And you know you did, with your makeup ruined by your tears, your blushing cheeks, and your hair a mess from all the tugging. He didn't look much better, with the strands of his hair clinging to the sweat on his forehead, and his cheeks flushed, clothing all disheveled. You liked it when he looked like that. It made you want to take him inside of you again. 

"Where are we going, now?" You asked, sheepish, wanting nothing more than to go home and cuddle him 'til you both fall asleep. 

He placed a kiss on your forehead. "We're going to go eat. It'll be fun watching you walk around with my cum dripping down your legs." 

_Asshole._

**Author's Note:**

> zeke yeager brain rot i repeat zeke yeager brain rot  
> I love you, please give kudos and comment!!


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